


By Lamplight

by i_eat_men_like_air



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Fixation, Pillow Princess James Fitzjames, Pining, Praise Kink, Soft Stanley, established arrangement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_eat_men_like_air/pseuds/i_eat_men_like_air
Summary: Stanley takes care of his Commander, by lamplight.
Relationships: James Fitzjames/Stephen S. Stanley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	By Lamplight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stinkyfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stinkyfic/gifts), [Tapeworrm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tapeworrm/gifts).



> Written for the Terror Bingo prompt 'Pillow Princess'.  
> Also functions as a gift to Molly and Daisy, for real Soft Stanley Content.

It had been a long time since Doctor Stanley had found himself in this position. He was well aware of his weakness for the Commander; it had been cemented several years before during the war, when the handsome young man had all but thrown himself at Stanley’s feet in an uncharacteristically frenzied haze of lust. 

Prior to that, he had watched the man like a hawk, eyes following his every move, trained in on his beautiful hair, his glowing eyes, the square set of his shoulders and jaw; when Fitzjames had come to him, begging to be taken care of, Stanley had felt all of his propriety melt away. All he had wanted was to give Fitzjames what he asked for. 

Now, looking down at the Commander, that same feeling of desperation took over. He would do anything this man asked. He would strip naked, dance a jig, and jump in the bloody sea if Commander James Fitzjames bid it.

‘ _ Stanley _ …’ Fitzjames breathed out, liquid gold eyes shimmering in the low, warm lamplight. 

Stanley blinked, quickly returning to the present. There was no war here, not yet, and his handsome Commander was in good health; he did not have to rush in to staunch any bleeding or to suture any injuries. Fitzjames -  _ James  _ \- was simply lying there, in his berth, naked as the day he was born.

Stanley traced a finger across the scarring on James’ arm and side, keeping his touch feather-light as he caressed the silvering skin. James sighed, and relaxed into Stanley’s caress, wriggling in anticipation. Stanley felt his face soften as he watched the man, eyes roaming over the broad, pale expanse that was James Fitzjames; taking in the well-defined musculature of his chest, his stomach, his legs; the peaked, brown nipples; the slight dip at each of his hips; the long, slender, proud curve of his cockstand. 

He was beautiful, was his James. For in moments such as this, he was  _ his  _ James, for him to do with as he pleased. Or as James pleased, to be more precise. 

‘Do you intend to touch me, my dear doctor, or will you simply be prodding at those damnable scars until I grow bored and wander off?’ James’ voice was low and teasing, with no real impatience, and Stanley chuckled.

He moved his hand from its resting place on James’ arm, and sat down on the side of the bunk, only having to fold slightly due to his blasted height. He stroked James’ hair gently, smoothing it away from his face, letting his fingertips linger on the peaks of the man’s handsome, well-cut cheekbones. 

‘Terribly demanding, aren’t we, my dear Commander?’ Stanley murmured, running his fingers over James’ face and resting his index and middle fingertips on the soft skin of James’ lower lip. 

James opened his mouth immediately, and Stanley’s eyes twinkled as he pushed his fingers into that warm, welcoming cavern. His James was so eager when he was like this. So rigid and controlled in the day-to-day running of the ship, it gave Stanley a flush of pride to know that he was the only one who would see the ‘handsomest man in the Royal Navy’ in this position. Laid out like a feast.

He had never found himself asking for anything in return, for these little sessions. Most would want something - probably something hot and wet wrapped around their prick - in exchange for such a thorough working over, but not Stephen Stanley; he was simply content to pull his James apart and put him back together, in only the most delicious ways. 

James suckled gently at his fingers, running his tongue in little patterns over the skin - soft and calloused by turns from Stanley’s years as a surgeon. Stanley sighed happily as he watched, stroking James’ hair with his free hand - tresses thick and soft to the touch - enjoying the moment.

James moaned softly around the fingers in his mouth, pushing his head upwards to take them deeper, and Stanley  _ tutted _ quietly at him, pulling his fingers away with a frown that held no real venom or anger.

‘Now, now, Commander, you really ought to know better by now,’ Stanley leaned down and placed a soft kiss at James’ hairline, breathing in the delicate scent of the macassar oil he used on his hair. 

James whimpered softly at the touch.

‘Sweet boy, so terribly needy, hm?’ Stanley breathed out, his face barely an inch away from James’, ‘and all I have done is undress you.’

James pouted a little, sticking out his bottom lip and frowning in teasing irritation.

‘Well if you would  _ do _ something more, my dear do - ,’ James was silenced, quite thoroughly, as Stanley leaned forward and kissed him.

James’ lips were soft and sweet-tasting beneath Stanley’s tongue, the wintergreen of his tooth powder a pleasant, cool flavour, over a warm richness that was uniquely  _ James _ . Stanley hummed in enjoyment as he leaned a little closer, bringing both hands to stroke at the warm, musky fur of James’ armpits; to trace up the soft definition of his biceps; and to come to a halt at his wrists, holding them gently where they were crossed above James’ head. 

Stanley smiled as James moaned into the kiss, muffling the sound as best he could with his lips and tongue. He hated that they had to be so quiet. It was always best when, every so often, they could do this on land, somewhere with thicker walls and fewer chances for interruption than his damned cabin. Then he could wring all sorts of beautiful noises from his Commander, truly able to take his time and work the younger man over until he was a sobbing, writhing, overstimulated mess. 

But, needs must, and he would take the quiet, muffled sounds of desire where he could get them. Stanley sucked on James’ tongue gently, pursing his lips and enjoying the way the warm, strong muscle felt in his mouth. James wriggled beneath him, his slender, shapely hips thrusting up in small, strained circles, trying to find some friction as Stanley kissed him with single-minded determination. 

Stanley chuckled into the kiss, and pulled away with a peck to James’ nose that made the younger man frown in feigned annoyance. He was a delight. A delicate, tender thing to be unwrapped and unraveled at Stanley’s leisure. So markedly different to how James appeared when he was on deck, or amongst the other men.

Stanley knew that there was still a portion of himself that James hid from him; he was unsure that hidden place would ever truly be brought into the light, but he reveled in knowing that this side of James was his, and his alone. His James, to be touched and treasured as best he could. 

He leant back slightly, taking in the lamplit form once more before bending to place a kiss to James’ stomach, letting his tongue trace over the soft skin and breathing out a chuckle as James’ wiggled at the contact. Stanley continued to kiss across James’ torso, letting his tongue linger as it pleased, licking softly at the clean, slightly soap-scented skin. 

It was a joy, he thought, to care for James like this. He pressed his hands firmly into James’ chest as his mouth worked, massaging the pectoral muscles with steady, capable strokes, smiling to himself as he felt James’ breath quicken. 

He gently rubbed his fingertips over James’ nipples, enjoying how the younger man bucked up against the touch, and pulled himself up to watch the reactions he was orchestrating. 

James’ face was flushed, little patches of pink floating over his cheekbones in a most charming manner, his chest was rising and falling faster, now, and Stanley shuffled a little further forward so he could continue teasing his Commander’s nipples.

‘Awfully sensitive, aren’t you, sir? Such delicate skin,’ Stanley lowered his head and licked a stripe across James’ left nipple.

He smirked in satisfaction as James gasped at the sensation.

‘Such a lovely reaction to such a small thing, hm? So beautiful like this, such a treat, stretched out for me,’ Stanley murmured, almost to himself, as he licked at the right nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth.

James arched up into the touch, the praise no doubt affecting him as well, and gasped softly. Stanley looked up at him, from his place at James’ chest, and he felt his heart break a little at the look on his Commander’s face.

It was easy to forget how young James was - how much younger than Stanley he was in particular - but here, in the lamplight, his youth was painted clearly upon his features. Every line, every shadow in his face was softened by the warm glow; every flicker of tiredness washed away, and he was once again the young man that Stanley had fallen so startlingly in love with, so long ago.

It was love. Stanley could admit that to himself, though he daren’t speak the word to another soul. He loved his Commander deeply, dearly, and if anyone else even suggested it he would dispose of them in a quiet, methodical manner when no-one was watching. James was  _ his _ in these moments. When they closed the door behind them any of James’ pretenses would instantly fall away, leaving the quivering, naked picture of debauchery that Stanley now pressed his lips to. 

James was still pushing his hips against the toffee coloured air, squirming as Stanley licked and teased at his nipples. Stanley turned to look at the state of his Commander, and huffed in amusement as James whimpered.

‘You’re a blasted tease, my dear doctor,’ the flushed, wriggling Commander grumbled.

‘Well I should hope so, my dear  _ Commander _ ,’ Stanley smiled, reaching up and kissing him softly at the corner of the mouth, ‘you wouldn’t darken my door, otherwise.’

James’ brow crumpled slightly at this; he sat up with a pout - a breach of their rules - and gripping Stanley’s bicep with a large, warm hand.

‘I would darken your door no matter  _ what _ you did, Stephen, you really ought to know this by now,’ James’ voice was so firm and sincere that Stanley felt his mouth drop open a little.

That, combined with the unprecedented use of his Christian name, made him feel - momentarily - as if he were drowning. He stared at James, struck dumb. James, being James, laughed kindly at his expression, not noticing the effect he was having.

‘My darling Stephen, for a dashingly intelligent man, you can be rather dim on occasion,’ James placed a quick peck to Stanley’s nose, and lay back, resuming his position on the bunk.

Stanley, still silent with surprise, and not daring to ask for clarification nor explanation, lest his heart be well and truly shattered, quickly schooled his face back into a picture of mild disinterest. It would not do to pierce this moment with some soppy, weeping declaration of love. It would not be appropriate.

‘I only feign dimness, darling boy, so you do not feel so intimidated in my presence,’ Stanley arched an eyebrow, and felt his muscles relax as James chuckled.

‘Oh I’m sure that is the explanation you give yourself, my dearest Doctor Stanley,’ James’ honey-hazel eyes twinkled in the lamplight, and Stanley felt his stomach swoop a little at the expression; his James was so horribly, heart-achingly handsome.

‘Now, are you going to do something about this little problem or am I going to have to break our rules for a second time this evening?’ James’ voice was low, to begin with, but it dipped into a beautiful, rough baritone as he spoke, and Stanley let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards in a smirk.

‘Hardly a  _ little _ problem, sir,’ Stanley traced a pattern down James’ chest and stomach as he spoke, stopping when he reached the dark hair that created a delightfully tempting path to the man’s cockstand.

James’ hardness had not waned, and his prick was now leaking steadily as it stood stalwartly against the warm, honeyed air of the cabin. Stanley parsed his fingers through the dark, tight curls, petting the fur gently as he took his other hand and traced soft, barely-there lines along the twitching, soft, sensitive skin of James’ inner thigh. 

James let out a quiet curse as Stanley’s fingers moved closer to their goal. Stanley watched the muscles in his thighs and stomach strain, admiring their definition as his James willed himself to - almost - stillness. 

‘Wonderful,’ Stanley breathed out, pressing the flat of his hand to the warm, soft hair that covered James’ pubic bone, forcing his hips to cease their tiny, helpless twitching, ‘such a good boy for me, aren’t you, sir?’

James nodded with a soft whimper, dark eyes wide and lust-filled. 

Stanley hummed in agreement.

‘And good boys get rewards, from what I have heard. Would you like a reward, sir? For being such a well-behaved boy for me?’ Stanley stilled the hand upon James’ thigh, and moved it until it was merely a hair’s breadth away from the younger man’s pulsing, straining cockstand. 

James nodded again, frantically, hair falling over his face. Stanley swallowed, staring up at his Commander. At his James. His hair cast a series of slender, curved shadows across his face, a shroud for a saintly creature, and Stanley smiled softly up at him.

‘Very well, my darling boy, rest your head back, now,’ Stanley nodded in approval as James relaxed into the thin pillow, and encircled the base of the younger man’s prick with one large, steady hand. 

James’ reaction was instantaneous. He did not move, but every muscle on his body seemed to tighten. Stanley ran a firm hand over the younger man’s thigh, petting him, soothing him, and began to move the hand that encircled his cockstand. 

James’ prick was a sweet, pale thing when soft; and it grew to a long, pink arch when aroused. Not overlong or overthick, but perfectly proportioned to him; perfectly formed for Stanley to caress with sweeping, gentle strokes. 

He let his hand drag softly over James’s crown, rubbing soft circles with his palm, watching in adoring fascination as the foreskin slid easily away; well-lubricated as it was with pre-ejaculate. James whimpered, his hips straining in place, and Stanley switched hands to brush the hair from his Commander’s face.

Stanley twisted the hand at James’ prick carefully, watching the loose foreskin curl and twist over flushed, taut skin with a satisfied smile. It was such a pretty thing, twitching and hot in his hand, velvet flesh throbbing as he worked his hand in long, firm motions, wringing soft, beautiful whimpers from the younger man. 

‘Quietly, sir, you wouldn’t want the men to see you like this,’ Stanley whispered, not daring to speak any louder, not wanting to break the spell.

James nodded, pressing his cheek against Stanley’s open palm and rubbing against it, his movements feline and languid. Stanley brushed his thumb over James’ cheekbone, before pressing it gently to the man’s lips, murmuring praise as his thumb disappeared between bitten, plump lips. 

‘You are doing wonderfully, sir, so wonderfully,’ Stanley purred, admiring the way James’ crown looked as it disappeared into the pale, steady grip of his fist.

Stanley sped his movements up carefully, not wishing to overwhelm his Commander too quickly; he enjoyed this, more than he could adequately put into words, and he did not want James to spend too quickly. 

He wanted to draw this out, to reduce James to a twitching mess beneath his hands. It was his one indulgence in the wasteland they had found themselves hemmed in by, and he was determined not to squander it by being overenthusiastic in his movements.

James was twitching beautifully beneath his hand, and Stanley hummed his approval as the younger man sucked at his thumb, tongue circling around the tip of it. 

A quiet, whispering part of his mind reminded him that this is what James’ tongue would surely do to him, if he so asked. James would take him into his throat and suck him dry, eager mouth stretched over his prick, tongue teasing at his frenulum. Stanley swallowed heavily, shifting where he sat.

It was rare that he thought of his own pleasure, in these moments, but the swirl of James’ tongue was doing something sinful to his thoughts; fumbling them round and focussing them on the hot drag of his palm against James’ prick, and the hot weight of his own prick where it pulsed, unheeded, in his underclothes. 

Stanley breathed in slowly, steadying himself. It would not do to spend in his trousers like a boy; now was for James, and for James’ pleasure alone. He switched his hands again, removing his thumb from the wet warmth of James’ mouth and drawing a sad little pout from the man as he did so. 

Stanley chuckled at his expression, a picture of childish irritation despite the state of him, and ran his wetted thumb over the head of James’ prick in tight, firm circles, relishing the velvety give of the red, pulsing flesh. That irritated expression dissolved quickly, back into one of panting, writhing desire. 

James was so lovely like this. Heartbreakingly lovely. Stanley tightened his grip on the man’s prick, taking his other hand to gently trace the seam of his sac, and roll his stones carefully in his palm.

James thrust upwards, his hips snapping forwards at the gentle touch, his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. His stones were so deliciously sensitive; Stanley rarely touched them until he was satisfied that his Commander was close.

He played with them softly, carefully, enjoying their weight in his hand as they drew closer to James’ body; he was close. So close. 

The lamplight glinted off the slick that now leaked freely from James’ prick - it shone like gold in the warm glow, and Stanley leaned down gracefully to lick at the source, knowing full well what would happen when he did.

His James was teetering on the edge of release, Stanley’s hand squeezing and massaging the skin gently, pressing his thumb over the sensitive frenulum, tracing the veins of his prick as a Captain would trace the well-worn lines of a map. 

His tongue had barely touched James’ crown when he felt the younger man’s stones draw tight to his body; his muscles tense impossibly; his breathing stutter to a halt. James’ crisis was a quiet one by necessity, and Stanley lamented the necessity as he fastened his lips around James’ cockstand, barely in time to catch his muffled, twitching release, drinking it down with a low, satisfied moan. 

James’ noises were so beautiful, a rarefied delicacy for Stanley’s ears only. But, Stanley conceded, so was his release upon his tongue. James stuttered and shook beneath him, hips twitching and jerking unwittingly as Stanley wrung every last drop of seed from his slit, kneading his stones gently as he worked; only satisfied when James’ hand brushed against his thin, pale hair, a signal that it was too much.

Stanley pulled off slowly, savouring the salt-musk taste of his Commander as he sat up. James was gazing up at him with drooping, tired, hazel-gold eyes, satiated and adoring. Stanley did not delude himself that the adoration was genuine; all men looked as this when they had spent.  _ Well, not exactly like this, but a pale approximation _ . But he allowed himself one last, small indulgence, and leaned to kiss his Commander gently at the corner of his mouth.

James hummed into the kiss, hands - now loose from their position above his head - caressing Stanley softly. Stanley forced himself not to tense up at the contact, such an unfamiliar, intimate feeling. James’ hands moved freely, stroking up and down Stanley’s back as he twisted his head and deepened the kiss. Stanley rested his hands on James’ collarbones, tracing the delicate bones with soft, steady strokes. 

He could have gladly stayed there forever, kissing his Commander, his James, letting the outside world freeze over and disappear. He hummed into the kiss and pulled away, extricating himself from James’ tender embrace; it was not a fantasy he could entertain for long. If he did, he would become lost in it, unable to resurface into the cold, harsh light of reality. 

Stanley placed a hand on James’ cheek, his skin warm and slightly rough with the evening’s stubble, and looked at the man with a smile he hoped conveyed all he could not say.

‘I trust that will be all, sir?’ he asked, softly.

James smiled back at him, the angles of his face still softened beneath the lamplight, his expression beatific.

‘That will be all, doctor, unless…’ James gestured at the hardness between Stanley’s legs with a raised eyebrow, and Stanley blinked, a breath shuddering from his lips.

‘No need for that, Commander, I am perfectly capable of  _ dealing _ with it alone,’ a ghost of a smile flickered over Stanley’s lips; he wanted nothing more than to give in, to let his Commander take him in hand and stroke him to release.

But he would not. It would not be proper. Breaking the delicate rules of their arrangement would open a door to a flood he would not be able to control, a flood that would ruin them both. 

James nodded, his hair haloed around his head on the pillow, a shadow of disappointment clouding his face for only a moment.

‘Then, that will be all, my dear Doctor Stanley, thank you,’ James rested a hand on Stanley’s wrist with a sad smile, ‘if you should ever need - ’ 

Stanley cut him off with a shake of his head, standing carefully so as not to hit his head on the low ceiling. 

‘That is quite alright, sir, but I thank you for the offer,’ he rolled his sleeves down slowly before pulling his coat on and buttoning it tightly, concealing the embarrassing hardness in his trousers. 

‘Goodnight, James,’ Stanley pulled the blanket gently up over James’ chest, making sure he was warm and covered and placing one last, agonising kiss to his forehead.

James smiled up at him, looking for all the world like the sweet, carefree creature Stanley had met so many years ago.

‘Goodnight, my dear Stephen. Sleep tight.’


End file.
